A Multitude of Sins (Carmilla Harry Potter AU)
by TheSickenerHits
Summary: Hollstein Hogwarts AU. Laura Hollis is a Ravenclaw, happy to celebrate her mediocrity. Carmilla Karnstein is a Slytherin, doing her very best to atone for past mistakes. After a chance meeting at the start of term, events are set in motion that neither of them could be prepared for. Set in the Harry Potter universe, this story runs parallel to Order of the Phoenix.
1. Hot Knife

"_I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter / If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that / He's never gonna need another"- Fiona Apple._

The journey down to Kings Cross on September 1st was traditionally fraught - traffic jams, road works - and so climbing from the car after a solid seven hours was the definition of relief. Her muggle father rushed with her from the car park, laboured by luggage as they reached the Hogwarts Express at exactly 10:59am. The final whistle sounded as he piled Laura and two small suitcases into the nearest carriage, his voice joining the chorus of caring leaking from both train and platform.

The final whistle blew and the train pulled away, leaving Laura alone with her thoughts for several minutes. The end of term had seen her bid her friends farewell for a solid nine weeks, as they returned to their homes in southern England, and she undertook the laborious trek back to the north. Regardless of where students were from, the majority still had to take the Hogwarts Express to Kings Cross before returning home.  
She didn't mind her hometown, and was always sympathetic to those without the luxury of living by the sea. Unfortunately, her sleepy, seaside citadel had been long-abandoned by the holiday-goers and tourists of yore; consequently the arcades and attractions had left with them, in spirit if not in presence. This meant that what had once been the most awaited weeks of the year had now become a dreary, windswept blur of nothingness. A calendar on the wall counted down the moments before her return to Hogwarts: a home from home, her substitute family. Some students surrounded themselves with friends, but Laura had always preferred to keep one or two people close, rather than be queen of the common room. Her closest friend, LaFontaine, was far more mature than many in her classes, and their thirst for knowledge often exceeded their interest in lessons. LaF and Laura had resolved to maintain a mediocre grade curve until graduation, seeking only happiness and a Pass grade for the next two years.

They had left London long before Laura finally took stock of her surroundings. She peered into the window of the nearest compartment, and found only one inhabitant: a dark haired girl, dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit with a Slytherin emblem embroidered onto the right jacket pocket. She was staring intently out into the passing countryside, headphones covering her tick of a snare was barely audible over the rush of the train. Laughter came from further down the carriage, and fearing that the other nearby passengers might be larger groups of Slytherins, Laura ducked inside the room, closing the door behind her.  
The room's sole occupant turned slowly away from the window and cocked an eyebrow at her expectantly, revealing a stark white shirt hidden beneath the blazer. Laura cleared her throat as the girl slid her headphones down to her neck.

"No uniform." She pointed out, although Laura was unable to gauge whether this was a statement or a question.  
"Nope." Laura acknowledged. She didn't usually wear her robes until the castle was visible from the window of the train.  
"Fifth year, I'm guessing." Said the girl confidently, and Laura nodded. "And your house?"

Slytherins were not famed for their manners, and Laura gave the girl a moment to offer a hand to shake, or at least provide a name. Instead, she was met with an expectant gaze.

"Why don't you use your powers of deduction?" Laura smiled. She removed her coat and sat down on the bench facing the other girl, tucking her suitcases away as she did so.

"Well, you're no Slytherin." The girl began, appraising Laura. "I'd know you, if you were." She slid up the bench until their knees were nearly touching. "Yeah, I'd _definitely_ know you."

Laura wondered what that was supposed to mean. It felt distinctly like flirtation, a definite allusion to something more. Recent conquests had been disappointing to say the least, and her own house, Ravenclaw, had provided little in the way of romance. Padma Patil had been sweet, aside from insisting that their tryst remained a secret, and Laura had no desire for secrets. A brief, drunken kiss from LaF had been interesting - "for science" - but meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Sex with a sixth year had been, well, forgettable. Several hot and heavy nights in the Hufflepuff dorms had been enjoyable, but little more than the satisfaction of bi-curiosity for her partners. Laura didn't exactly resent her role in that capacity, but didn't want to make a habit of it. That said, she couldn't deny that Hufflepuff snuggles and morning-after breakfasts had been exceptional; the latter being a bonus of living next to the kitchens, she supposed.

As though practicing legilimency, the girl opposite her continued to hold her gaze, only speaking after a brief pause and a wry smile.

"You haven't tried to hug me yet. You're not eating anything either. So that rules out Hufflepuff." Laura gave the briefest of grins, which the Slytherin returned, leaning forward to study her intently. "You also haven't told me that you're a Gryffindor, which you would have, if you were."

Generally, Laura steered clear of Gryffindor students. Their stereotype of being confident to the point of cocky was often deserving, and although she didn't like to generalise, she wasn't interested in becoming a notch in somebody's bedpost. Despite having had a "sleepover" with one of the more notable Gryffindor girls last year, she attributed the experience to an excess of butterbeer and little else. A Slytherin though? That would be new, unexplored ground, and Laura was all for exploration. Her tenacity for investigation was one of the traits that had placed her in Ravenclaw.

The other passenger continued, after a pause. "You're not wearing any sporting paraphernalia, which leaves... Ravenclaw." She smiled again, seemingly satisfied.

"I didn't know Sherlock was in Slytherin." Laura laughed, cracking open her suitcase to reveal the smallest glimpse of Ravenclaw colours on a worn woollen scarf.  
"You're lucky I'm up on my muggle literature. Otherwise, I'd be lost right now." The Slytherin remarked, smirking. The tension in the air seemed to relax. "Do you have a name, Ravenclaw?"  
Laura hesitated: sharing names meant potential friendship. She decided to take the plunge anyway. "Laura Hollis."  
The Slytherin extended a pale hand towards her, leaning forward again in her seat. She brushed hair out of her face as their hands connected, the skin-to-skin contact sending a buzz through Laura's veins. "Nice to meet you, cupcake. I'm Carmilla Karnstein." They shook. The hand-holding lasted a little longer than it should've, and releasing the grasp was gradual rather than instantaneous, as though the very act itself required thought.

"Got any big plans for fifth year?" Asked Laura. It seemed like a fair opening to the conversation; not too personal, but better than the generic _how was your summer?_

"Aside from not getting kicked out?" Carmilla laughed, giving the briefest glimpse of a bad attitude and reckless tendencies.

"Do they even expel people from Hogwarts? I thoug_ht every wizard matters_, or something." Laura's query was met with more hollow laughter.

"You're cute, but you're clueless." She felt her neck reddening. "Of course they kick people out 'Claw. You just don't hear about it." There was a pause as Carmilla dug around inside her jacket. "The groundskeeper, the big guy? Kicked out. I heard he killed someone, and that's why they employ him. They don't want him to blab to any outsiders."

Laura was quiet for a moment, contemplating. She met Carmilla's eyes with some hesitation. "Well, I trust _you're _not planning to kill anybody."

Tentative smiles were exchanged. Carmilla produced a hipflask from her inside pocket, and took a sip. "Seems like a little much effort. Not that there aren't candidates." She said thoughtfully, before offering the flask to Laura, who could smell the firewhiskey from the other side of the carriage and politely declined. "Anyway," the brunette shrugged, "you don't need to kill to get kicked out." Carmilla screwed the lid back onto the flask and tucked it away. "Harry Dickhead nearly got the boot for taking a flying car rather than the Express in second year. Teacher's pet benefits though; he got to stick around."

"Harry Potter?"

"One and the same."

"I can't stand him." Said Laura, suddenly incited, small gestures becoming larger as her agitation grew. "That boy has a God complex. I mean, did you see him in the tournament?"

Carmilla leant forward in her seat, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. She beckoned for Laura to move in closer, until they were inches apart. "If I were to kill, and I'm not saying I would, but... I could add him to the hit list. Do you a favour." Carmilla winked, mischievously. Laura could smell the alcohol, along with incense and firewood, coming from Carmilla in steady waves. She seemed warm but with an edge: a hot knife in the wrong hands. Laura felt that she might melt if Carmilla came too close.

"I appreciate the offer. Really, I do." She put a hand on Carmilla's knee, attempting to mask the cast iron butterflies in her stomach with a smile and sincerity. "But some things, a girl just has to do for herself, you know?"

Carmilla's laugh was hoarse and heartfelt as she leaned back against the bench. Laura internally congratulated herself. She had made a cute girl laugh, _with_ her rather than _at_ her. "You don't strike me as a killer, Hollis." Carmilla countered with a grin. "But I guess a pretty face can hide a multitude of sins, right?" They stared one another out. Laura wondered what she was at risk of losing if she blinked first.

"Do you flirt with everybody like this?" She could feel herself blushing again, and tried to take the lead.

"You answer my question, I'll answer yours." Carmilla challenged.

"You want to know if I think a pretty face can hide a multitude of sins?"

"Not just any pretty face." Said the Slytherin, stretching her legs out across the small compartment until she had placed a foot either side of Laura's, invading her space, closing her in. "_Your_ pretty face, sweetheart."

Laura tried to ignore the compliment. "You've known me for all of ten minutes, and already you want my innermost secrets? Flattery won't get you anywhere, Ms. Karnstein." It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Kind though your concern is."

"You can't blame a girl for trying." Carmilla grinned, a mock-pout adorning her curving lips as she sat back in her seat.

"Yeah, well… You're going to have to try harder than that." Laura no longer knew or cared if she was talking about the secret-keeping or the personal-space-invading; her feet were pressed against Carmilla's, and a playful battle had begun. The two girls tussled for a few seconds, never once breaking eye contact or leaving their respective seats. To an outsider, they would simply seem to be engaged in an exceptionally intense staring contest.

This is silly, Laura thought. This is so immature. She didn't even know this girl. She should stop, what was this, footsie? She could be reading over her course notes, or donning her uniform, or, anything really, other flirt with this very forward Slytherin, who admittedly did actually seem to be interested. It had been a long time since she hadn't had to be the pursuer, and she welcomed the change. Just play it cool, she thought. For once in your goddamn life.

Her reverie was ruined as the vestibule door slid open, revealing a tall, impeccably-poised Slytherin.

"Belmonde." Murmured Carmilla, casually easing herself upright and leaving the contact of Laura's feet.

"Karnstein." Responded the newcomer, her dark eyes elsewhere as she watched Laura intently.

Laura had seen the girl on innumerable occasions: she attended every Slytherin Quidditch match, and was one of their more _vocal_ supporters. It also didn't help that her confidence was so easy to pick out from the crowd - she was like a fire in a snowstorm.

"Ravenclaw chaser, right?" She regarded Laura coolly.

"Yep." Laura felt awkward. "That's me."

"Mattie Belmonde." They shook.

"Laura Hollis. Pleasure to meet you."

Mattie continued to stare at her. "We'll see about that." She glanced around the carriage, disinterested. "You playing this season?"

"As far as I know." She had played for the Ravenclaw quidditch team since her third year, and intended to continue until she finished at Hogwarts.

"And you've met our most recent acquisition, I see?" Mattie gestured to the other Slytherin.

Laura was confused, glancing from Mattie to Carmilla, and back again. Carmilla sat silently, surveying the conversation with a grimace, but Mattie took delight in Laura's evident confusion.

"Oh, you didn't know?" She turned to Carmilla, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You didn't tell her?"

"It wasn't really relevant until now. I didn't even know she was on the team." Carmilla grumbled, sounding despondent. She averted her gaze, returning to the position Laura had first found her in: body turned from the door, eyes to the window. Mountains and moors passed in the moments before Mattie spoke again.

"Oh, Karnstein's just being shy. She's the new Slytherin beater." Her smile was beatific, and although in any other conversation held the capacity to light up the carriage, Laura was chilled to the bone. Mattie felt like flesh over steel, a skeleton reinforced by and upbringing of privilege and pride.

Returning her gaze to Carmilla, Laura went pale at the thought of the girl with bat and bludger in hand, both aimed in her direction. Prior - and premature - thoughts of a quietly blossoming flirtation dissipated before her eyes.

"I'll leave you two to get further acquainted." Mattie smiled broadly, as though oblivious at the sudden change in temperament. Laura felt as though she had purposefully made herself an unwanted guest in the small room; Mattie was notorious for stirring situations simply to provoke a reaction. "See you both on the pitch!" She continued, closing the door behind her.

Silence reigned for what felt like forever.

"Well, _fuck_." Carmilla muttered to the window. Laura viewed her reflection, trying to figure out why the temperature in the carriage seemed to have dropped from the double digits of their earlier dalliance.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" She tried, aiming to ease their collective discomfort with a joke.  
"I won't be kissing anybody any time soon. Not if Mattie has her way." Carmilla replied, sliding headphones over her ears and turning her collar up, as though against a storm only she had to weather. Laura sighed, resolving herself to spend the remainder of the journey revising, cracking open a suitcase to find the nearest textbook. She could never just fancy a cute girl, could she?


	2. Bruises

_"A heart that's full up like a landfill / A job that slowly kills you / Bruises that won't heal" - Radiohead_

Laura spent the remainder of the journey sat in silence, sulking in the shade of Carmilla's inexplicable sullenness. The brunette simply had nothing to say for herself. New year, new rules, she had thought. She had spent four years with her head down, quietly pursuing the girls - and sometimes boys - who had seemed vaguely interesting to her at the time. She had avoided students such as Mattie Belmonde like the plague, wanting nothing to do with them. They may be in the same house, but they shared none of the same values. Charisma? Sure. Prowess, determination? Why not. Carmilla estimated that she could tick off approximately half of the Slytherin qualities listed by the Sorting Hat, but she lacked the characteristics which Mattie possessed in abundance: manipulation, ambition, cunning.

Carmilla also operated a strict non-judgement policy: do whatever you like, pursue your own happiness, just don't hurt anybody. (Or if you do, make sure it's consensual.) Mattie seemed to actively seek out weak spots; the perfect place on a person to cause damage. Now that she had Carmilla in her cross-hairs, Carmilla knew she would struggle to maintain her modus operandi.

In her periphery, Laura changed into her robes, the began to read through her new Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, "Defensive Magical Theory" by Wilbert Slinkhard. Carmilla had finished the book over summer, utterly gutted by its lack of practical content. She had never known a less interesting approach to the subject, and was unsurprised as she noticed Laura drifting off to sleep, her head lolling against her shoulder and the thick book slipping from her grasp. Carmilla made a dive for it, catching it before it hit the carpeted floor, hoping to prevent any disruption to Laura's sleep. She gave silent thanks to her beater reflexes - honed over the long summer break - for the save.

She hadn't intended to join the Quidditch team. In fact, joining the team had been the last of her plans, knowing that it would thrust her closer to the gaze of the "popular" crowd. It had happened by accident; in the final week of her fourth year, shortly after the final Triwizard task, she had come across Marcus Flint, Gregory Goyle, and a much younger student in the almost empty Slytherin common room. Their rooms were a rabbit warren of interlinking dungeons, and it was only the muffled moans echoing through the empty chambers that had lead to her discovery. Everybody else was still at the maze, panicking or celebrating, and curiosity overcame her.

Marcus had the younger boy up against the stone wall by his neck, his hair tousled and his tie loose. The room was littered with broken furniture, and evidence of a struggle was everywhere. Carmilla assumed that Gregory was intended to prevent intruders, standing just inside the doorway as he was, but he was preoccupied with a chocolate bar, and consequently did not notice her entry until she'd swung at his head with a broken chair leg.

The sound of his body hitting the floor startled Marcus, who turned, just in time for Carmilla to see him raising a fist at the young boy, whose face was already bruised and bloody. She aimed her wand level with his crotch, and took a bold step forward. "Leave, before I jinx your dick so badly, you won't be able sit down." As Marcus reached for his own wand, Carmilla raised hers: _Acalanthus_.

Transfiguration was not her best subject and the spell was only temporary, but Carmilla reasoned that she was unlikely to find a better opportunity to transfigure a man's genitals into a canary. Marcus screamed, although whether it was from pain or fury, she couldn't tell. The younger boy scarpered, and Carmilla - recognising that sticking around was probably an easy way to die young - followed suit. With no way to leave the college grounds, she had kept herself scarce until she had no other option than to return to the dungeons for bed. She wasn't even sure what she had seen, or heard. Probably nothing. _Definitely_ nothing sexual. Right? She reasoned that Marcus would probably be too embarrassed by the hex to tell anybody anyway. She was wrong.

They had been waiting for her all night: the Quidditch team, assorted angry fifth years and older, a smattering of self-righteous fourth years, and Carmilla was hit with a stun and a _silencio_ the second she stepped in through the dungeon doors.

Although none of the Slytherins _really_ knew what had happened, they were on Marcus' side regardless of the truth, and Carmilla had to admire their loyalty. All anybody was truly aware of was that something very bad had been done to a popular Slytherin, and Carmilla -a relative nobody in the grand scheme of social hierarchies - was to blame. It had taken smart, manipulative Will to recognise that further hexes curses would only draw attention to the issue: captain of the Quidditch team behaving abusively towards a defenceless student? This would do nothing for the Slytherin image. In solemn tones, Will offered Carmilla hush money - galleons and gold to ensure that she kept her mouth shut about Marcus' "little discrepancy". Protection for her family. An automatic Pass in her fifth year OWLs. Anything he thought relevant to the value of the truth.

"Whatever she gets, we need to do something about Goyle." A student somewhere in the mob remarked. "He's not coming back on the team if he can't see a girl coming at his head with a chunk of wood." There was a general consensus of positive noises, the first she'd heard all night, and at this, Will's eyes had brightened.

"You took a fair chunk out of Goyle's ego with that swing, you know." He had chided. "He's going to be useless on the pitch now. We'll be needing a new beater." He inclined his head in her direction. "If you take the position, we can pretend this didn't happened."

She had held his gaze, masking fear with a _fuck you_ face in place of the words themselves. He laughed at her bravado, telling her that this was probably the best offer she was likely to get, and really, what other option did she have?

Agreeing was logical, although she despised herself for it later. She didn't regret intervening in _whatever_ had been going on (the exact details of which she was doing her best not to dwell on), especially as it hadn't seemed particularly consensual, but she did resent bending to the bribe.

Carmilla had spent her summer trying to forget about the whole thing, and she had almost succeeded. Optimism abounded as she had boarded the train that morning, only to be blown to hell by Mattie's visit. She served as a reminder: _we haven't forgotten. _

The train was slowing, daylight long dimmed, and as she closed Laura's textbook and replaced it on the bench, she placed a hand gently on the girl's knee. "Laura. We're here." She straightened up as Laura opened her eyes. "Come on." Carmilla smiled.

She collected her own, battered leather holdall from the rack and wrapped a Slytherin scarf around her neck, coiling her headphones into her pocket.

"Oh. So, we're talking now?" Laura murmured, rubbing her eyes.

"Don't be righteous, Ravenclaw. It's not a good look on you." Carmilla countered with a sigh.

"No? Then what is?" She seemed tense, frustrated.

Carmilla wanted to tell her everything, this girl she barely knew but felt the strongest connection to. Instead, she paused. Honesty filled her mouth like saltwater, threatening to spill from her lips - what is a good look on you, Laura? _My hands, my bedsheets, my lips, _the list was endless. She hadn't had a crush like this for a long time, and it had hit her unexpectedly. Responding, she opted for cliché and a firmly established stereotype. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be curious, creative, witty, intelligent... But not righteous."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Fine. Then what's your deal with Mattie? One night stand gone wrong?"

Carmilla barked out an abrupt laugh at this. "Fuck no. What kind of person do you take me for?"

"Well -"

"Rhetorical question, Ravenclaw, don't answer that." Carmilla interrupted, not really wanting to know. They had progressed from the carriage to the train platform by this point; Laura wrapped in her coat and scarf, juggling two suitcases, as Carmilla slung her single bag over one shoulder.

They watched LaFontaine board a carriage with Harry Potter and his friends, Laura visibly slumping as they viewed the scene and waited for their own ride.

"Friend of yours?"

Laura nodded glumly. "I feel bad. We'd planned to sit together on the train."

The traditional thestral-drawn carriage arrived, and their journey to the castle was conducted in semi-silence. It wasn't until they reached the entrance hall that either of them spoke again.

"Well, cutie." Carmilla muttered. They had come to a synchronised stop, several steps before the doors of the Great Hall.

Laura turned to face her, hope etched into the corners of her smile. "I'll see you on the pitch, yeah?"

"I guess so." There was a pause. "I'll try to aim for body parts other than that pretty face of yours."

"You want to miss my multitude of sins?" Laura smirked. "Or are there other parts of me you'd prefer to see bruised?" The flirtation was so blatant, it might as well have been a howler. Laura seemed mildly horrified by her own remark, and there was a blush rising from her collar.

"Bruises aren't so bad." Carmilla responded, with the briefest raise of an eyebrow. She felt her insides warm as she noticed Laura bite her bottom lip. "...From the right person, that is."

Laura exhaled loudly and let out a low whistle."I am going to my table now." She said, formally.

Carmilla laughed at the audible awkwardness to her tone. "I'll see you later."

"Will you?"

"If you'd like to." Carmilla held her gaze, and Laura opened her mouth to respond, and then hesitated.

"I should - " She gestured towards the Ravenclaw table, where LaF was waving madly in her direction. Carmilla smiled at her, nodding.  
It took all of her self-composure not to follow the visibly anticipatory Laura to her seat, but by sheer fortune, she managed to find a space at the end of her own table. She didn't hear a single word of the speeches.


	3. Choke

"_I will hold on hope / And I won't let you choke / On the noose around your neck" - Mumford &amp; Sons._

The feast passed in a blur, and Laura heard barely a word of the speeches. Dumbledore said some things, and a lady who looked like a strawberry blancmange said even more. The Sorting Hat's song seemed to drag on a little this year, but the ceremony itself was over in a heartbeat. She was too distracted by the memory of a girl she barely knew, but who, if she craned her neck and swivelled around in her place on the bench, she could just about see, seated at the end of the Slytherin table.

Laura was able to concentrate long enough to answer LaFontaine's questions - _what happened to you on the train?_ and _what are you looking at? Is it nargles?_

She also remembered to ask Cho Chang how her summer had been, which felt important considering the significance the final Triwizard task had held for Cho in the final weeks before the summer break.

In spite of this, she was (conversationally speaking) otherwise engaged. She didn't even notice Padma Patil's efforts to catch her eye, which were about as subtle as a creosote block. Instead, she spent long periods of time filling her mouth with food, and nodding at LaFontaine as they regaled her with tales from The Quibbler.

Once the feast was finished, she was almost the first on her feet, scanning the rapidly emptying tables for a sign of Carmilla. Somehow, the Slytherin had slipped away, missing among the mass of students.

"Does she like you back?" Asked LaFontaine, who had been given the bare bones of an exposition but didn't seem to mind. Laura's favourite thing about LaFontaine was that they were rarely inconvenienced by Laura's lack of detail.

"Honestly?" Laura sighed, turning to her friend. "If her flirting was anything to go by, yes. I am almost certain she likes me back."

"And what about if her flirting _wasn't _anything to go by?" LaFontaine said, knowingly. Despite their maturity, lexical ambiguity was abundant with LaF, and comprehending their conversation was much like wandering through a thick fog: you knew there was something important to be found, you just weren't sure exactly what it was.

"If her flirting _wasn't_ anything to base my opinions on, then I've got nothing, and this is a hopeless situation." Laura relented.

"That's the spirit." Smiled LaFontaine, taking Laura's hand and leading her towards the doors of the Great Hall. "Come on. It's bedtime, and I want to find out what the new entrance riddle is to the Astronomy tower before I'm too sleepy to solve it." And with that, LaFontaine led them both from the room, dragging a reluctant Laura along behind them.

Carmilla had decided that the path of least resistance involved a quick getaway. She would've really liked to loiter in the foyer, find some excuse to make further conversation with the Ravenclaw from earlier, and couldn't imagine a better ending to her evening that agreeing to see the girl again. However, as the feast began to draw to a close, she realised that if she was going to keep her head down and stay out of trouble (as she had promised herself she would), a swift exit was necessary. Lowering her head as she left the hall, she took advantage of the empty corridors and sprinted down to the Slytherin common rooms.

It was half an hour before her housemates joined her, filtering in through the dungeon doors as she finished unpacking her bag. Carmilla had brought very little with her, too afraid that she might have to pack again in a hurry, and had already read the course books over summer, knowing that she could borrow them from the library if further study was needed. Climbing into bed, black vest top and shorts as pyjamas, she was disrupted by Mattie Belmonde's sudden entrance to the dormitory.

"I found her!" She called behind her to the assembled students. She pushed through the heavy oak door, followed by a giggling Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, the other fifth year dorm girls. Together, they formed a summary of Carmilla's worst nightmares, the epitome of the folktale covens of old.

"Accio tie." Mattie flicked her wand in the direction of Carmilla's tie, which slithered from her bedpost. "Funisio noose!"

The girls had reached the bed by this point, lining its edges like some sort of ironic honor guard, and Carmilla's tie had tangled itself around her neck before she could even reach for her wand. Mattie clambered over to where Carmilla knelt, panicking as quietly as she could in the centre of the mattress, fingers now frantically tugging at the ever-tightening knot around her throat.

Tugging on the tail end of the neckpiece, Mattie wrapped the spare fabric around her fist, pulling Carmilla closer to her until there was less than an inch of taut tie between them. The girls around the bed hissed violent encouragement, vipers in a pit.

"Nice friend you made on the train, Karnstein. She a fuck buddy of yours?"

Her breath was hot on Carmilla's face, and she found her hopes of keeping her cool falling flat.

"I barely know her." She spat from between gritted teeth, managing to wriggle a finger's worth of space between her skin and the silver and green fabric threatening to crush her windpipe.

"I bet you'd like to. I saw the way you were looking at her." Mattie smirked, tugging on the tie as Carmilla struggled to keep her balance. The loop was tightening, the hard knot-work of the noose digging into her cricoid.

"I haven't done anything." Carmilla grunted, holding Mattie's gaze.

"What if we haven't forgiven you for what you did to poor Marcus? It's hard to shag a boy with a canary for a cock, you know." Sight Mattie, petulantly. "You spoiled my summer."

It was a foregone conclusion that Mattie and Marcus had been sleeping together, and frankly Carmilla was surprised that a canary would have stopped them.

"What do you want Mattie?" Personally, Carmilla wanted this to be over. She wanted to sleep, and above all else, she wanted Mattie to get off her.

"I want you gone. But I can't have that. So I want a little fun instead." Mattie sighed mercurially, and mercifully dropped the tie, which slackened its hold immediately. Carmilla took several long, shaky breaths, and glanced around the warily group. It could've been much worse, she reasoned, wondering if this was the calm before the storm. Mattie smiled at her almost fondly, like a lion eyeing a mouse pinned beneath its paw. "They always said fifth year was going to be _much_ harder than fourth year."

Millicent Bulstrode leaned in. "Let's make sure it is."

Everybody but Carmilla laughed. Carmilla had never heard a menacing chuckle before, but recognised the concept as she heard it then, echoing around the stone walls.

She loosened the knot on the tie tentatively, hoping to signal that she was done fucking around for the night. Mattie wasn't quite finished.

"I should put that knot back-" She began, raising her wand arm, before a purple jet of sparks erupted from Tracey Davis' wand. Carmilla was thrown with force into the chest of drawers by her bed.

She collided into the wooden unit with a crunch, pain roaring through her body, and felt a warm, wet substance where her face had met the furniture.

"... _Knot _back, not _knock _back, you cretin. If I wanted to jinx her, I would've done it myself." Mattie muttered, in the wake of Tracey's impromptu flipendo jinx. Carmilla could make out fuzzy figures stood over her. "Forget it, let's just go to bed."

As Tracey stammered out an apology - to Mattie rather than to her victim - Carmilla found her footing, pushing herself into bed and slumping against the pillows, slipping slowly into unconsciousness. Black tendrils began to obscure her vision, static slowly filling the rest of her faculties.

There was no sign of Carmilla at breakfast, and Laura was beginning to feel worried. All sense of logic seemed to have abandoned her somewhere between the toast rack and the orange juice jug, as she wondered if the Slytherin was avoiding her. LaFontaine's deconstruction of the Daily Prophet's front page wasn't helping either.

"Father says Azkaban's next, you know. If only they'd utilised the crumple-horned snorkacks as he'd suggested, they wouldn't be having these problems..."

"Mm." Laura agreed, glass of pumpkin juice midway to her mouth as she finally saw Carmilla slip in through the doors.

She made a move to stand, but her view was blocked by Millicent Bulstrode and Will Luce, who stood before her like proud pallbearers.

"Hollis." The latter nodded curtly. She had clashed with Will on the Quidditch pitch before, and they shared a respectful rivalry.

"Will."

Millicent Bulstrode said nothing and simply sneered, while LaFontaine looked on with an acute fascination.

"I hear you had a somewhat clandestine meeting with our new beater Karnstein." Will murmured, so only those in the near vicinity could hear.

"We spoke, yes." Laura's breathing was shallow. Had Carmilla been talking about her last night? Is that how he knew? She wasn't sure how she felt about being discussed down in the dungeons.

Will smirked. "Well, it might interest you to know that Karnstein got in a little _beating practice_ herself last night."

Will stepped to the side tactfully, and Laura allowed herself a quick glance at Carmilla, who was sporting a deep cut over her eyebrow and a bloodied bottom lip. She was dishevelled at best, her shirt creased and tie loose, barely visible above the v-neck of her jumper. The top button of her collar was unfastened, and there was a dark shadow in the hollow of her throat. She looked as though she hadn't slept, placing her head in her hands and running her fingers through tousled hair. Her cool demeanour and languid body language from the day before seemed to have been blown to hell.

"_Oh_?" Laura did her best to sound unconcerned.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a little rough and tumble." Will raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in, conspiratorially. "You know what girls are like. She and Mattie had to get..." Will paused, looking around as though wary of eavesdroppers. LaFontaine could not have been less conspicuous, but he paid her no notice. "... _Reacquainted_." He finished with a wink.

"Mattie and... Carmilla?" Laura stammered, confused. Had they -? Surely not. Although that would explain Carmilla's sudden change in temperament upon Mattie's arrival yesterday. Were they an item? Maybe that was why Carmilla had clammed up on the train, why she looked as though she hadn't slept. If she and Mattie had spent the night together, Laura did _not_ want to know. Will stared at her, his expression somber.

"No hard feelings Hollis. Karnstein's always been a heartbreaker. See you on the pitch, yeah?" He gave an inappropriate smirk, ill-fitting with the news he had just delivered, and headed back to the Slytherin table.

Laura wanted to vomit. She hadn't exactly been planning their wedding, but she knew a crush when she had one, and the feelings she had for Carmilla had hit her like a truck.  
Laura was an immovable object, and Carmilla an unstoppable force. Basic physics had taught her that neither one could exist while the other was present. She gave Carmilla one final glance as she finished her croissant, and was surprised to find the girl looking back at her, the ghost of a smile etched on her lips. Her hand raised in an informal hello, a casual wave. Laura's instant response was to return the grin, but she remembered Will's words and restrained herself, turning her back to Carmilla and pouring another glass of juice. Carmilla was now not only a shameless flirt, but potentially a philandering partner of Mattie's too. Laura deserved better than that.


End file.
